


To Have and to (Choke)Hold

by AkisMusicBox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Combat/Grappling, Commentary on Motherhood, F/M, Lessons in Tough Love, Rebuilding, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Titles Titles Titles, Unifying Fodlan and Almyra with A Good Time(TM), Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23754793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkisMusicBox/pseuds/AkisMusicBox
Summary: "A dream he dare not voice for so long, lest someone try to steal it away, became powerful enough to defeat the most ancient enemy known to our world. But that power only came from sharing that dream and recognizing what makes each other unique and valuable. And in that spirit..." She gestured to the pit. "The Academy has adopted one of the most prized Almyran traditions - the fighting pit! It shall be governed by the same restrictions and safety precautions as the training grounds, but as we also hold mock battles, we shall also hold grappling tournaments in this arena, that will not be restricted by status or sex."Unification is a long, winding road that Claude and Byleth have chosen to walk together. It involves time, negotiation, sacrifice, and sometimes... wrestling matches!
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	To Have and to (Choke)Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TataBanchou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TataBanchou/gifts).



> A birthday gift to the wonderful TataBanchou! This fic has a ton of potential for expansion, so I absolutely retain the right to remix/rewrite this thing if I need more practice writing combat more.

"The Almyran royal company has been settled in their quarters," Seteth said. "The Archbishop Consort's mother, at least. His father sends his regrets, along with this." He held up a golden cloth sack and pulled out the contents. It was a dusty bottle with a label written in a language she couldn't understand, but the shape of the bottle was unmistakable - it was wine. Byleth leaned over the paperwork on her desk and took it with a smile.

"Almyran nobles keep a bottle of wine from the year their child is born to drink on their wedding day," she explained as she wiped some dust off.

Seteth scowled. "So it was explained to me, but since the former king and queen were deprived of their son's wedding day..." His voice trailed off as he turned his head and sneezed.

Byleth suppressed an eye roll. "You were the one who insisted we wed promptly."

"Because neither of you would promise to maintain proper _decorum_ until a formal, public ceremony could be conducted." He raised a critical eyebrow. The rest went unsaid. The Church was not created to exist in a world where the Archbishop would take a partner, and therefore, contend with the potential for an heir. The Church never considered a world where the Archbishop wasn't Rhea, and as the world was adapting to that new reality, Seteth was reluctant to take risks on what the world would think of one born out of wedlock. Out of wedlock, to a former mercenary, and entitled to the throne of Almyra. Claude and Byleth were sympathetic to his concerns and therefore, conceded as long as Seteth wed them the week after Claude returned from Almyra. He agreed, albeit reluctantly, but was all smiles as he presided over their modest union in the cathedral, attended by whoever was at the monastery.

"Unity over formality," Byleth reminded him. It had become her and Claude's motto during this time -- that efforts that broke down walls were more important than making people feel good. And few things sent that message more than saving taxpayer gold on a formal wedding that could instead be used for aid in recovering from the war.

"Unity over formality," Seteth sighed. Seteth had been sighing a lot, but Byleth and Claude were adamant about pushing rebuilding and reunifying efforts in the ways they saw right. However, she was firm in letting Seteth know everything, and Claude had obliged her request. Rhea had kept too many secrets from Seteth and Byleth wanted to be different. She didn't want to cause him more pain then Rhea's absence already caused.

To the world, Rhea was dead. In actuality, she had left to Zanado and taken only a small retainer of nuns to accompany her. Seteth had tried to convince her to stay, to let him take charge of her care and bring in healers to save her. She declined. She said that her mother would call her home in her own time and it was not her place to interfere. Byleth couldn't forget the pain that shot through Seteth's expression when she said that. It was then Byleth decided that for the sake of the goddess that lived in her, she would take care of him. At the very least, she'd leave him no reason to wonder and speculate.

"During the closing ceremonies, you can acknowledge our union and we can have a celebratory drink," she said, taking the bottle and locking it in her bottom desk drawer. "But right now, I need you to check with Manuela on the progress of the medical pavilion. See if she need any additional resources."

He sighed. "Very well. But I fear her answer will be a drink, so I am compelled to restate my objection to the ale and wine vendors present."

She stood and straightened her coat sleeves. "I will remind you that it is small beer and the wine is watered. Having no drink at the pit would be an affront to the Almyran tradition. The vendors have been strictly forbidden from selling to students."

Seteth raised an eyebrow. "And what is to enforce that restriction?"

Byleth put her hands on the Sword on her hip. "Being reprimanded by the Archbishop herself."

That made Seteth smile. "I'll spread the word myself. Any chance the same can be enforced for Manuela?"

Byleth let her expression fall visibly. "If you had to deal with students shedding other students' blood for years, you might develop coping mechanisms as well. Today will be a day of only minor injuries, so do not chastise her for if she wishes to celebrate with a glass."

Seteth stiffened. "You... make a good point. Very well." He gave a quick nod and left.

Byleth took a deep breath. She hadn't minded mothering her students, but it felt strange to do it to a grown man. But she was the Archbishop, she carried Sothis inside of her, and she had to learn to lead people in times of peace, not just war. Claude had a way with words that she didn't, so she tried to leverage her caretaking instinct. To let every stern word reek of the sentiment of _I'm doing this for your own good._

She missed being an instructor, missed being called "Professor". It seems that when she had finally gotten comfortable with her place as a teacher, she had been thrown down an infinite abyss and trapped. Now, she was called "Archbishop" or "Queen Consort" or "Shabanu" and she had yet to be comfortable with it. She was also not comfortable with Claude being referred to as "Archbishop Consort" or "Shah," but Claude had seemed to embrace the titles.

"Think of it as a hint as to how the conversation is going to go. An insight as to what the other thinks of you," he had said as they laid in bed in Rhea's former chambers. Much of the finery had been removed and replaced with some of the possessions Claude had brought with him from Almyra. She knew in the back of her head that it could be seen in a controversial light, but their chambers were fiercely guarded so there was little risk of racists invading her privacy. Byleth liked the change, the rich colors and luxurious fabrics warming the room and feeling radically different than it had during Rhea's tenure. Byleth enjoyed getting to glimpse into his upbringing. "But I can always call you 'Teach' if you prefer," he had said with a wink. Somehow, the term being used in this new context, of him being shirtless and overtly flirtatious sent butterflies through her stomach.

She had put a hand on his chest -- hard muscles, soft skin, and coarse hair felt warm under her fingertips. "Whatever feels natural to you, Khalid," she purred.

He swallowed hard. A bit of pink rose in his cheeks. "Not quite the same thing, but, right. I get it."

The safety of their bedroom was one of the few places where they had time alone. When they left it, Claude was in constant negotiations with leaders from across Fodlan and beyond. Byleth's focus was on the Academy. They decided that reopening the school as swiftly as possible took high priority. It's doors would be open to students from Fodlan, it's vassal states, Almyra, and Duscur. There had been plenty of reluctance from lords and ladies to let their children intermingle, so it had taken Byleth considerable effort to get the meager classes she was able to. "War did not discriminate on who it took from us. I will not discriminate against those who wish to come together," she had said, over and over again, in various tones that ranged from Rhea's sweet and soothing to that of a battle commander, always head to toe in her regalia.

It helped to an extent, but most of her success had come from enlisting the help of her former students to do the persuading for her. They sent their siblings and their cousins and swayed their vassals and fellow merchants to send new students. The Black Eagle house was the smallest, as people from Adrestia were still weary from the war. She resisted the easy answer of putting the Almyrans in it -- they needed an even distribution of non-Fodlan students in each house. They would be free to switch if the right professor swayed them, but she had to keep a firm hand on the ratios to make sure natural divisions didn't form. "So we can't attempt to recruit away every new heir and student of note?" Hanneman had poked, as she had done essentially that during her tenure.

"Times have changed," Byleth had quipped. "I'm pointing this out so that everyone has the same understanding, even our new professors. Understood?" She raised an eyebrow at them.

Catherine gave a boisterous laugh. "Got it! I'll not follow in your footsteps in that regard."

Yuri merely chuckled. "How unfortunate. I was just polishing my sales pitch."

Byleth checked her appearance in the mirror before leaving her office. The headdress still felt strange, but the nuns had secured it well. The flowers in her hair were made of the finest silk, and she had been tempted to "lose" them and invest the money in uniforms for common students, but there was something to be said for the symbolism. At the very least, she'd be recognizable in the crowd. She took a deep breath. _It's a strange world now, father. So, so strange._

Byleth wished that the repairs on the cathedral would have been further along at this time if only to not deal with Lord Glocester's complaints about the scaffolding along the side. Lorenz tried to explain the logistical complications to his father, but Byleth tried to sum it up by saying, "The choice was between ensuring safe housing for the students and the aesthetics of the cathedral and the choice was simple. The goddess cares for her children first." The thin, gaunt man couldn't argue much in response. _Perhaps he thinks I'd argue for financial assistance to speed construction?_ _Piety often comes secondary to financial concerns._

The scaffolding did seem a blight on the visage of the monastery, but it couldn't bother her too much when she was standing at the podium at the training pit. A circular arena had been dug into the ground, surrounded by bleachers. A raised box was above that all, where she stood for all to see. She hadn't quite understood Hanneman's explanation of the rod she held with a circle of wire mesh on the end of it, but he had enchanted it somehow to allow the whole stadium to hear her. All she had to do was speak. If she could muster the courage to do so. _Claude isn't here yet._ He was somewhere out in the crowd, likely speaking to one lord or another and smoothing over some sort of disagreement. Her house leaders, Seteth, and Nader were with her, so she shouldn't feel alone, but she did. _Public speaking is more of his expertise._ But this speech was one step closer to their dream, so she had to brave it.

"Welcome, one and all, to the opening of the Garreg Mach Monastery Training Pit," Byleth began. It almost startled her to hear her voice projected so loudly. The commotion of the crowds below quieted. It unnerved her until an errant thought popped into her head. _If only it had been that simple to quiet my classroom back then._ She smiled to herself and continued. "It warms my heart to see so many who have traveled from so many places across our wide world to be here. I will be blunt -- there is still a long way to go to build unity, within the monastery and across our borders. However, our first class of students at the reformed Academy..." She gestured to the segment of stands closest to the box, where the students sat. The crowd hollered in appreciation of them.

Byleth's smile widened. "And every person in attendance here today is proof that the people are ready to see a new world. A world where one's heritage does not dictate their destiny. A world where your appreciation of culture does not stop at the border." She paused for a moment. "This is a step towards that world. Towards the dream that my husband first felt could become a reality when he was named heir to House Riegan." A section of the audience clad in boldly patterned fabrics in rich, warm tones hollered. She spied Claude there, giving a short bow and then holding a hand up. She could see him smiling up at her.

"A dream he dare not voice for so long, lest someone try to steal it away, became powerful enough to defeat the most ancient enemy known to our world. But that power only came from sharing that dream and recognizing what makes each other unique and valuable. And in that spirit..." She gestured to the pit. "The Academy has adopted one of the most prized Almyran traditions - the fighting pit! It shall be governed by the same restrictions and safety precautions as the training grounds, but as we also hold mock battles, we shall also hold grappling tournaments in this arena, that will not be restricted by status or sex."

Except for Byleth and Claude -- Seteth had strictly forbidden them from fighting each other. "I fear the... imagery that people will be left with," Seteth had said, blanching. It was a fairly easy concession.

She saw Claude sneak out of the stands and make his way down to the pit, stripping his cape and gloves off as he went. "Today, we will merely hold exhibitions to give the full breadth of what these matches may entail. The former Archbishop was known to be a bit of a brawler herself, and in that spirit, I will participate in a match against the new instructor for the Golden Deer house, Catherine later today." She gestured to her right and Catherine waved.

Byleth nodded. "Without further ado, the first exhibition will begin shortly. And to introduce the match up is none other than the head of the Almyran forces, Nader the Undefeated." She passed the projection rod to Nader.

He gave her a wolfish grin before turning to the audience. "Lords, ladies, lads, and lasses, enough of the sweet words! It's time to get down to business!" By the time Claude reached the sidelines of the pits, he was down to his undershirt. He handed the removed garments to a retainer on the side of the arena and made his way to the center of the pit.

Byleth took her seat. Nader continued. "Now, if you haven't been able to tell already, us Almyrans appreciate a good show of sport, just like you from Fodlan, but our sports tend to be a bit rough. See the white shirt that The Boy With A Thousand Titles is wearing?" Boisterous laughter erupted from the Almyran section. The rest of the audience chuckled nervously. Claude animatedly put his hands on his hips and scowled in Nader's direction. Nader smiled. "Folks, I've known this boy since he started collecting rocks down by the river, but now he's gone off and collected titles for himself. Duke, King, Shah, Consort, Slayer of the Fell King, bah! Claude von Riegan bleeds just as red as any man, and that's why it's customary to wear white in the pits. But we never let custom stand in the way of a good time, do we, your Fancy Pantsness?"

Claude shook a stern fist at Nader. Even the Fodlan born started to laugh more animatedly. "The pits, my dear are for entertainment," Claude had said, "It requires an entire show. A good commentator makes or breaks the event, so whatever Nader says is okay. Until after, that is, and I can pay him back at the feast later that evening." With that in mind, Byleth was able to laugh. The shared the final title Nader had listed, but she was sure that some sort of ribbing towards Claude would come from that later.

She saw Claude turn towards an opening at the opposite side of the pit, and Dedue emerged, similarly garbed in a white shirt and tight, tan pants. His expression was severe, with a sourness Byleth felt she could recognize. He wasn't comfortable with being with the center of attention, but he softened slightly when he saw Claude and crossed to meet him. "His opponent today will be Dedue Molinaro, Liason something-something to Duscur, pah! He was key for defeating the Empress, that's all that's worth a hill of beans. He's a fighter and you'll all get to witness the kinds of strength it took to win this war. But not the full strength, mind, as I'm not keen on getting strangled by the Sword of the Creator today." The audience was properly rolling at that point.

Claude and Dedue clasped forearms for a quick moment before turning and taking five paces away. They then prepared their stances. "Now, Dedue has got the clear height and weight advantage on Claude, but Claude has fought in the pits since he was twelve," Nader explained. The last piece tugged at Byleth's heart. _Twelve? He never told me that._ She shook the grief that threatened to nest inside of her off. It was over. They had won. Their victory wasn't complete, however, because as much as Claude bristled, even Dedue agreed that a man from Duscur couldn't defeat the Archbishop's consort. The pits were a place of equality, so it not being the same for himself and Dedue ate at Claude. Dedue would get a fair fight against Raphael later on, but for now, Dedue would have to lose. It was one of two matches that were predetermined. "Fight!" Nader hollered.

The tension of who would win removed, Byleth merely tried to focus on their technique. The two turned and circled each other for a time, jabbing and reaching as they danced, testing each other for a time. "Ladies and gentlemen, would you believe a King to be so light in his loafers?" More laughter. Byleth raised an eyebrow at Nader. "And I'm getting a look from the Archbishop! Just fancy footwork I'm admiring, your Voice-of-the-Goddess-ness! You'll have countless heirs, no doubt, the way the boy mooned for you during the war."

Seteth fought a smirk. Hanneman, Manuela, and Yuri hid their laughter, while Catherine barked and slapped Byleth on the back. Byleth felt red rise in her cheeks and she turned to watch the fight more intently.

Byleth could see the faintest wink from Claude. That was Dedue's cue to angle a powerful fist towards Claude's head. Claude ducked low and threw his weight against Dedue's thighs. Claude wrapped his arms around Dedue and drove him back. The momentum drove Dedue the ground. Claude used his legs to pin Dedue's and limit his movement. Dedue's arms were wrapped around the outside of Claude's, but Claude's position on top gave him the ability to test and push, almost experimentally, while Dedue had to focus on merely not getting pinned. "Take note, Fodlan, when you place your bets, size isn't the only factor! Right now, Claude's limited Dedue's advantages, and -- " Nader stopped as Seteth gave him a glare. Nader rubbed the back of his neck. "And gambling is strictly prohibited on school grounds!" Nader added. "Hypothetically speaking though. Naturally."

It was then Byleth noticed that Dedue's shirt sleeve had torn at the seam. She made a mental note to ensure he was better equipped for the next round. It had to be an embarrassment to have ill-fitting clothing for battle, and Claude tearing at the sleeve didn't help the fact - it was actually giving Claude some control over Dedue's movements.

Dedue didn't allow for the advantage for long, though, as he worked a leg out of Claude's clutches and wrapped it around the back of Claude. It was just enough leverage for him to flip Claude over onto his back. Manuela's gasp of, "Oh my," seemed to help outline what Byleth was seeing. Some of the buttons on Claude's shirt had been popped open, others barely holding on by a thread. He was effectively being straddled by Dedue, both men starting to sweat. Dedue started punching at Claude's side, but it dropped his head close enough where Claude could wrap his arms around Dedue's head, pulling him closer. _Oh. Entertainment doesn't just refer to comedy._ She felt heat begin to pool in her stomach.

Dedue was able to break his hold and Claude twisted away far enough to get his feet under him. Dedue rose as well and finished ripping the sleeve off of his arm, fire in his eyes. A small, devilish smirk crossed his lips and he pulled the rest of the shirt off as well, revealing his scarred, heavily muscled chest. A few audible gasps sounded, while most of the audience hollered.

Not to be outdone, Claude grinned and ripped his shirt open as well and tossed it aside, revealing his own marred and dark flesh. He waved a hand at Dedue to come at him. Byleth's face was burning when Nader grinned at her. He thankfully didn't point out her flustered state. "Somebody call a tailor!" Nader hollered.

Byleth bit her lip. She was almost perturbed -- how long had it taken for her to see Claude without gloves? And now the entire arena could see her husband half-naked? _At least Sothis isn't here to tease me._ She only had to control her external reaction. She was the Ashen Demon, she could handle it. She crossed her legs and focused on the blows they were trading. They were fierce, but Dedue's were cleaner -- Claude was allowed to be sneaky, but Dedue's focus was on showing a respectable fight. Nothing that could cause anyone to accuse him of fighting dishonorably.

Finally, Claude closed the distance between them and got Dedue in a clinch. It let him jab at the back of Dedue's knee with his heel, and as they grappled, Nader made some sort of joke about Claude thinking he was chopping at a tree. Byleth couldn't register much as she tried to find some way of watching the events without feeling heat rise in her. Their thighs were straining against their pants, their muscles bulging, their chests heaving. A final, strong kick collapsed Dedue's leg. Claude danced behind him and wrapped an arm around his neck. He secured his grip with the other arm and put a leg between Dedue's legs. A final shove put Dedue on his torso. He pushed and strained against Claude's grip, or enough of one to make it believable. With a pained look, Dedue reached an arm out and tapped the ground three times.

"That's it!" Nader called. "Claude wins by tap out! Can you believe it? Seems Claude hasn't lost his touch despite all the gallivanting around."

Claude released Dedue and helped him to his feet. Dedue put on a properly humble smile and extended a hand toward Claude. Claude took it, but instead pulled Dedue into a hug and patted him on the back. Dedue's smile widened and when they parted they left the arena together. Byleth jumped when Manuela put a hand on her shoulder. "Seems like managed to stay intact, but we should check on them regardless," Byleth breath and followed her.

* * *

Dedue and Claude were already being tended to by one of the nuns who was giving them glasses of water. When she saw Manuela and Byleth approach, the nun said, "I'll fetch your clothing," and left.

"Quite the show, gentlemen," Manuela said.

Claude chuckled, a ruddy glow covering his cheeks. "Glad to hear it. It felt appropriate to add a bit more than strict combat as an introduction." He looked to Dedue. "I appreciate your good sportsmanship, truly."

Dedue nodded a lightness in his expression. "Happy to be of service. I did find myself enjoying the exercise."

Claude put a hand on his shoulder. "Next time, I promise it'll be no holds barred. A proper competition, especially since you've had your first match now." Claude then turned to Byleth. "What'd you think?"

"Thrilling," she managed, wondering what could possibly be taking that nun so long.

Manuela turned to Dedue, "Follow me. I'll perform a quick examination to make sure you're fit to compete in your next match." Dedue nodded and followed her to the far end of the tent and slipped behind a curtain.

Claude raised an eyebrow. "Thrilling, despite already knowing the outcome?"

Byleth didn't hide her blush this time. "Don't play coy. And I must admit that Seteth's call about us not facing each other was a wise decision."

Claude laughed and crossed the distance between them. "Unfortunately, your match is in a mere few hours, otherwise I'd suggest we find some privacy." Calloused fingers ran through her hair. He then stroked one of the flowers in her hair. "I don't think I could fix your hair styling correctly." He sighed. "A shame, as I love being the one to dishevel the Archbishop."

She pressed herself against him and felt the heat radiating off of him. "Are the fighting pits truly this lascivious?" she asked mischievously.

He cupped her cheek. "People find what they're looking for in the pits. Opportunity, resolution, vindication, release... to seek is to find in the pits."

The heard the tent canvas ruffle and without hesitation, they separated and took a practice pace away from each other. It was only Seteth. He merely snorted at their display. "The match between Caspar and Lorenz is proceeding better than I anticipated." He raised an eyebrow. "Byleth, I'm sure you can catch the end if you hurry. Claude seems to not sustained any notable injuries that require your immediate attention."

"Very well," she said. "I'll leave him in yours and Manuela's capable hands."

* * *

Hanneman and Claude both chimed in to Nader's commentary from time to time to provide banter. So far, the only problems the guards had ran into were public drunkenness from non-residents of Garrag Mach. The day was going rather well by all measures, but she knew that could all change if the tone of her match wasn't perfect. Byleth's stomach started to turn as the house leaders left the box, leaving only Claude, Nader, and herself.

In the arena, Petra was helping Leonie walk her way out. "Ladies and gentlemen, remind me to never cross a woman of Brigid," Nader said. He turned to Byleth and grinned. "We've got a special match coming up now! None other than the Archbishop herself will face off against Thunder Catherine! Folks, if I'd have known there were so many fierce women across the Throat, I'd have been a proponent of unity decades ago! Claude, why didn't you --"

"Enough!" a voice boomed from inside of the arena that decidedly wasn't Catherine's. She was tall, with a thin frame and sunkissed skin. She wore billowy, tan pants and a tight golden top. A clasp with the head of a wyvern held a crimson red cape on her shoulder. Short, wild hair framed her face. Despite the wrinkles, her eyes were an unmistakable green. She also was holding one of Hanneman's projection rods.

Nader feigned shock. "Tiana von Riegan? What is the Queen Mother of Almyra doing in the pits?"

Tiana's eyes narrowed. "I will not abide by this flattery any longer. This woman," she said as she pointed up to Byleth. "Presumes to rule two nations that I hold dear to my heart without ever stepping foot in one of them. She has the gall to marry the only son of my body without even a word face to face with me beforehand." Excited murmuring threatened to drown her out, so she had to raise her voice to a shout. "I left my homeland to seek my own freedom and fate. I sent my son back here to claim his. But then, he meets this woman, an up-jumped mercenary who captures a future Duke's heart. She abandons him for five years and then returns to convince him to come _back_ and seize the Almyran throne for himself! Who even is this person? A weak, sad, power-hungry vixen."

Byleth let rage fill her expression as she grabbed the projection rod from Nader. "A bold claim from the woman who didn't return to Fodlan to support her son. You clearly have had no concept of his ambitions if you think this plan for unity was mine. I will not deny doing everything in my power to make his dream a reality, but that is the only claim I will submit to." Claude put a hand on Byleth's shoulder as if to speak himself, but Byleth shot him a look. "I will go to Almyra within the year. And when I do, no one will doubt my strength or my right to rule, because I will have defeated the Queen Mother herself in the pit!" Gasps, shouts, hoots, and hollers rang from the stands. Byleth strained against Claude's grasp as she yelled, "Prepare yourself, Tiana!" She threw the rod to the floor and stormed out of the box. Claude followed her down the stairs.

She began yanking the flowers out of her hair. "That was incredible, By," Claude said, taking the flowers from her. "Your delivery was perfect, I nearly believed you!"

She moved on to removing her headpiece. "What about your mother? Do you really believe her delivery was just an act?" The pins and clips took some of her hair with it as she yanked them free.

Claude scowled. "We already spoke with her, it's okay! She's not naive to who I am, this whole... all of it is one hundred percent what her son would do."

She picked up her pace as they wove their way to the arena entrance. She handed Claude her headpiece. "A grain of truth exists behind her words, I know it. We're doing this specifically to address the public's accusations and I don't believe your mother has been so easily swayed."

Alois was waiting by the entrance, bubbling with excitement. "Are you ready, Archbishop?"

Byleth shook her head and started pulling her dress over her head. "You said so yourself we're like siblings, Alois. Don't start using that term with me now." Her traditional black top, shorts, and tights were underneath the dress, but Alois still turned away as she shucked the dress.

"By," Claude said. "Are you afraid she's not going to follow the script?"

She threw the dress at her befuddled husband. "I don't know, Claude. I truly don't know."

Tiana's only change was the removal of the clasp and the cape. The projection rod was handed off to Alois, so while Claude was pantomiming begging the two women to not fight, he coached them. "This soil is clay-based, very hard, so ease up on your takedown, Mom," he said while clasping his hands together and shaking them at her in entreat. Tiana merely nodded, stone-faced.

Claude turned to Byleth. "Exaggerate your movements. It's going to feel unnatural, but the pageantry is more important than technique." He took both of Byleth's hands in his, making sure the audience could see their wedding rings. " His expression grew desperate. "This isn't a matter of life and death, but the more you play it up, the easier our lives become."

Byleth nodded. "I understand." Her eyes darted to Tiana and she let go of Claude. The scowl on Tiana's face didn't reach her eyes. Instead, her eyes were smiling. _This is going to hurt._

Claude backed away as the two approached each other. Nader prattled on as they stood face to face, nodded grimly, and turned and took five paces away. Byleth steeled herself and turned back to face Tiana. She felt positively naked without a sword on her hip, those eyes watching her intently. Dissecting her every move. She had forgotten what it felt like to be watched so closely, to have herself so scrutinized by those color eyes. An eternity ago, Claude watched her with the same such suspicion. _Just less overt disdain._

Nader's holler of, "Fight!" broke through her thoughts and she and Tiana began circling each other. Tiana's moves were silk, no hesitation in her step, and her pants made it difficult to discern how firmly she was planting her feet. Most of her and Tiana's conversations had taken place via letter, and while the exchanges were civilized enough, Byleth knew it was wrong to judge the weight of a person's words without speaking directly to them.

Their paces drew them closer together and Byleth swiped at her experimentally. Tiana barely flinched. Instead, she also swiped with her right, closing some of the distance between them. Byleth got a hand on Tiana's right shoulder, but when Byleth moved to pull her in, Tiana left arm grabbed her forearm. The strength of the grip told Byleth something that Tiana had neglected to mention -- Tiana was left-handed. Tiana signaled Byleth with two quick squeezes, so Byleth tightened her abs. _Already?_

Tiana planted a foot in Byleth's stomach and snaked her right hand on Byleth's right shoulder. She heaved Byleth upward, and Byleth sent a silent thank-you to whatever pieces of Sothis still existed that she hadn't eaten breakfast. She was flipped over Tiana's head and Tiana fell backwards with her to slam her on the ground. All the air that existed in Byleth rushed out of her as pain exploded in her back, but she knew she was lucky. Tiana had merely tossed her, anything with more force would have caused Byleth to blackout on this packed ground. The audience was was going mad by this point and Nader's commentary was indecipherable over the ringing in her head. Byleth's eyes were filled with stars and her mouth with iron as she forced herself up to a seat. Tiana was righting herself too, but it was taking her about as long as it was Byleth. _That's what you get for improvising, old woman._ Tiana wasn't supposed to flip Byleth until they were both grappling on the ground, where gravity would have taken less of a toll on both of them.

Byleth made it to her feet first and crossed the distance between them. Her head was still spinning, but she didn't need her full faculties to wrap Tiana's chest and drive her back down to the ground. Tiana fell, her head hitting the ground harder than Byleth intended. It didn't stop the older woman from delivering quick, fierce blows to Byleth's side. They stung, but Byleth managed to get her feet underneath herself and adjust her stance. She slid her arms from behind Tiana's back and wrap the around her left shoulder, locking her arm. She used her lower body to pin Tiana's right leg. Tiana made a show of struggling before she gave one dramatic sigh and tapped three times.

"Byelth wins!" was able to cut through the roaring in her head. She released Tiana and they both staggered to their feet.

Claude rushed into to both of their sides, pantomiming worry. "That is not how we choreographed it, Mother," Claude scolded as they exited the arena as the crowd went wild. "Byleth, are you okay?"

Byleth put a hand to her mouth, relieved when she didn't find blood. Tiana merely scoffed. "Byleth is fine. And putting on a show is one thing, but dragging it out is another. Quick and dirty is preferable, right, my new daughter-in-law?" She turned to Byleth and smiled. She seemed genuinely amused at poking at her son. Her father had to explain to her at a young age that being included in teasing was a sign of camaraderie within a mercenary corps, but it felt strange to think that it happened in extended families as well.

_Unity over formality_ Byleth thought. "It's the mercenary way," she said as they made their way to the medical pavilion.

Claude ran a hand down his face and sighed. "Both of you need checked for brain damage, immediately."

When they entered the tent, Seteth had a hand on Manuela's arm, which he pulled back immediately on their entrance. He turned to them and said, "I'm glad to see you're still on your feet, Byleth." He nodded to Tiana. "You as well, Lady Tiana."

Byleth could tell Claude was less interested in Seteth's behavior than he normally would, as he merely sighed. "As much as they tried to not be." He turned to Manuela. "They hit their heads pretty firmly."

Manuela nodded, the slightest flush on her cheeks. "Very well, my examinations will begin with checking for concussion. Lady Tiana?"

Tiana sighed and followed Manuela behind the curtain. Claude turned to Seteth. "I have a tremendous favor to ask. For the sake of the peace we are trying to bring to this land, for the sanity of myself, and by proxy, Byleth... can you do whatever it takes to ensure that my mother and Balthus are not left alone together?"

Seteth eyes went wide. "I'm not sure I follow." Byleth suppressed a laugh.

A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek. "Bathus has a crush on my mother and some men tend to be a bit more... inflamed after watching a match, so I'd really appreciate --"

Seteth raised a hand. "Say no more." He left promptly.

Claude turned to Byleth and stroked his fingers through her dust-filled hair. Creases formed between his furrowed brows, so she took a finger and pressed on that spot to smooth them out. He chuckled nervously. "I know, I know. This was my idea but it's still difficult. And even where most people get to see heart-pounding combat, I get the married man's nightmare, his wife fighting his mother."

She let her finger run down his cheek and wiped away the sweat. "And that's over now." She tried to stand up straighter to kiss him, but it tweaked her back. She winced. "Once these bruises heal, actually. Then it's properly over."

The curtain was thrown back and Manuela huffed. "Your examination is not over!"

Tiana shook her head and approached her son. "You have confirmed that I don't have a concussion, that should be enough to console my son. And I have proven to myself that you are a competent enough physician to ensure that this match didn't endanger any of my potential grandchildren."

Claude's head whipped to Tiana. With a crazed look in his eye, he growled, "Mother! If there was a chance that Byleth was pregnant, she would have never stepped foot in the pit."

Tiana raised an eyebrow. "Men know little and less about what that takes. And you're too much like your father to assume you'd have the sense to restrain yourself." She looked at Byleth. "A queen's maternal health is only as good as their physician. So, now that I'm satisfied, I'll give you the choice, Byleth -- do you trust Manuela to care for you? If not, I have a physician I can have her replaced with immediately."

Manuela's face turned red. "Lady Tiana, I must insist --"

"Of course I do," Byleth said firmly, locking eyes with her mother-in-law. "When I was a professor, she did everything she could to protect the students here. And now that I'm Archbishop, all of these students are like my children, and I trust her with them. The children of my body will be no different."

Tiana seemed pleased with that. "Very well, then I won't meddle." She gestured to the curtain and looked at Byleth. "Your turn."

Byleth retreated behind the curtain with Manuela as Claude tried to stammer out some sort of defense to his mother. "I apologize for Tiana's behavior," Byleth said as she sat on the cot.

Manuela sighed and shook her head. "I've heard that mothers-in-law can be quite a challenge. I certainly don't envy you dealing with such a... brusque approach to care."

The characterization made something click in her mind. _Perhaps I can learn a thing or two from Tiana when we sit together at the feast tonight_ . Byleth smirked mischievously. "Speaking of which... what were you and Seteth discussing before we arrived?"

Manuela blushed.


End file.
